One Lovely Blog Award

A big thank you to Jocelyn at shewhohears/aspiritualwanderersperspective for the nomination.  “Joss” is a woman who has struggled with homelessness and addiction.  She is open and honest when she writes about her struggles and her determination to make a better world for herself.  It is heartbreaking but also inspiring.  If you don’t already follow her, give her a read.

The Rules:

1.  Display the award on a post.

2.  Thank the person who nominated you.

3.  Share 7-15 facts about yourself.

4.  Nominate 9-15 bloggers for the award.

 

Facts About Me:

1.  I was diagnosed with an almost perfect eidetic memory.  (Had I honed it, I might could be working for…I don’t know…somebody who gives a shit?)

2.  My ring finger is longer than my index finger on both hands, which supposedly means that I am charming, pragmatic, incredibly compassionate, an excellent problem solver and I would make a great engineer, soldier or CEO.
It says if you are none of those, it may be time to re-evaluate.  (What the fuck does that mean?  Chop off the tips of my fingers?)

3.  The older I get, the better my eyesight gets.  (Now, if everything else begins to regenerate, you may have to start calling me Benjameena Button.)

4.  I had natural childbirth with all four of my children.  I never screamed once but I was screamed at and admonished for asking for a sip of water.  (If I could do it all over, I would say “bring me some drugs and while you’re at it….tell that piece of shit asshole to get the fuck out of here.”)

5.  People have looked at me and said “you don’t have a mean bone in your body, do you?”  (True…but if you betray me or fuck with one of my children, I will tell you to be afraid.  Be VERY afraid.)

6.  I have been told that I would be an excellent investigative reporter or an undercover police officer.  (I can go from my sweet Southern Belle “I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers” to a badass who will say “I will drop you where you fucking stand.”)

7.  I had Scarlet Fever when I was a child, which went untreated and consequently damaged my heart.  I now suffer from SVT.  (Hey.  After having being damaged and broken so many times, if my poor little heart can still beat 220 times a minute, I know I’m not dead.)

8.  I love to walk through The Home Depot and Lowes’.  I also love it when some little snot-nosed guy asks where my husband is, if I have a question.  (“See this chainsaw, Jack?  I know how to crank it and I know how to use it.  If you ask me that again, I am going to cut off all the protruding parts of your body and that includes that itty bitty thing in your pants.”)

9.  I love potted meat, although I don’t eat it anymore.  It was one of the few “meats” that my grandparents could afford.  (For those of you who don’t know what it is, I think it’s made from frog hairs, fish eyes, chicken beaks and discarded penis foreskin.  Yum.)

10.  When I was born, the doctor told my mama and daddy that they had a ten pound baby boy.  (Since I’m a girl, could it be possible that when the circumcision was being performed, the scalpel slipped?  Hey. Maybe my little dingy ended up in a can of potted meat.)

My Nominees:

I nominate anybody who would like to participate.

“Wind Spirit”

She was a sight to behold.  Nobody had ever seen a horse like her.  She was a beauty…completely white with a jet black blaze.  She soon became mythical and her legend put the small town of Bonebluff on the map.

The myth surrounding her was that she was the one horse nobody was ever going to ride…or break.

She was as fast as lightning and had been dubbed “Wind Spirit” by the town.  Catching her would be like trying to catch a fast-moving storm.  Men came from far and wide.  Many of them tried and many of them failed but not everybody gave up so easily.

One day a stranger rode into town.  He was a self-assured cowboy who introduced himself as Wade.  Word had it, he was from the hills of North Carolina and had made his way out west in search of Wind Spirit.  Tales of her had traveled all the way to the East coast.
Wade made his living breaking horses for ranchers….horses that were “unbreakable.”  His business card proudly boasted “ain’t no horse can’t be rode.  Ain’t no man can’t be throde.”

There was no reward for the capture of Wind Spirit, just bragging rights for having done so and Wade had it in his mind to claim those rights.
He had never encountered a horse like her before.  Sometimes, it was as if Wind Spirit was playing with him.  She would let him get close and just as he was about to dismount his horse, she would bolt as quickly as a speeding bullet.

After months and months of trying, it became clear to Wade that he had met his match.  There were going to be no bragging rights and his reputation was going to suffer but for some reason, it didn’t seem to matter.  He had developed an almost reverence for her.
When he finally gave up, he rode up to the hills for one last look.  As she stood in front of him, he tipped his hat in a gesture of respect, turned his horse around and rode out of town.

Not long after, another stranger rode in, known as the cowboy.  He seemed to have an air of superiority and expected everybody to acknowledge it.  When asked what his business was, he simply replied “I’m here to claim a prize.”  That prize was Wind Spirit.
People laughed and told him it would take a better man than him…but this cowboy was different.  He had learned the ways of Native Americans for catching and taming wild horses.

He was determined and driven but he was patient.  He slowly gained trust from Wind Spirit.  Instead of trying to rope her, he took off his shirt and let her smell it.  He rubbed it up and down her back.  He was getting her used to his scent.
Before long, he managed to slip a bridle on her neck.  That day, she became his.

The townsfolk gasped as he came riding Wind Spirit down the street.  He had a satisfied smile on his face and strolled by as if he was wearing an invisible crown.  Although it was apparent that Wind Spirit hadn’t completely surrendered, he had done it.  He had caught the uncatchable.  He had touched the untouchable.  He had conquered the unconquerable.  He did what he came to do.  He had claimed his prize.
After a deep jab with his spurs into her sides, and the crack of a whip, he and Wind Spirit disappeared into a cloud of dust.

Years went by and in the town saloon, the usual old timers sat at the table, playing poker, drinking whiskey and wiping tobacco stains from their chins onto their shirt sleeves.  They were just old men, talking about old women and old times and old legends.  Festus was pushing eighty and was by far the oldest but he had a remarkable memory and loved to tell stories of days gone by.  He started talking about the mysterious cowboy who had come to take Wind Spirit away.  He captured their attention as he told the tale.  Then, he quietly wondered aloud “I wonder whatever happened to her.”

A lone cowboy sat at the bar, staring into his glass of whiskey.  A closer look would have revealed that the man was Wade.
He heard that after the cowboy had beaten Wind Spirit into complete submission, he put her out to pasture.  The cowboy hadn’t cared about Wind Spirit.  He had only cared about breaking her.  He had only cared about winning.  It was that night that Wade decided he was going to find her.

He tracked the cowboy down and when he saw Wind Spirit, he almost dropped to his knees.  She was tied to a post and was so disfigured and beaten down that he hardly recognized the beauty she used to be.  The letter B had been deeply carved into her left flank.
As Wade ran his hand across the scar, the cowboy smiled and said “this is my mark.  It stands for BROKEN.”

Wade wasn’t sure but he thought Wind Spirit might have recognized him as she gave a slight nod when he gently stroked her mane.  He whispered to her that he was going to take her home.  Wade asked the cowboy how much he would take for her.  “I’ve got thirty-eight dollars on me,” he said.  The cowboy said “just take her.  She’s useless.”

Wade made good on his word and took her home.  People stood in silence as she slowly and painfully walked down the street.  A few of the old men had tears in their eyes as they watched her struggle.  Gone was the beauty who used to be the envy of every cowboy.

Wade and Wind Spirit made it back to her beloved hills.  When he took the rope from around her neck, she used every ounce of strength she had left to make a gallant run before she collapsed.  She had one last taste of freedom.

Wade buried her that same day.  There is no monument.  There is but a tiny cross made of sticks which will, in time disappear.  But her memory will live on…in tales told by old men, who sit around and play poker, drink whiskey and wipe tobacco stains from their chins with their shirt sleeves.

Nobody ever saw Wade again after that day.

Word soon traveled to Bonebluff that the cowboy had been found hanging from a tree.  A large J had been carved into his chest and a note was pinned to his shirt.  It was written in his own blood.

The note said “this is my mark.  It stands for JUSTICE.”

 

El fin. 

The World Of Bobby Jo

Bobby Jo loved to spend summers at her grandma and grandpas’ house.  The long, steamy days and nights didn’t bother her nor, at the tender age of ten, did the smell of cow manure, mixed with wild honeysuckle. There were acres of land to be explored and she wanted to explore them all.

Bobby Jo was a prankster.  Once she took the bell off of Bessie the cow.  She sneaked up to the house and started ringing the bell.  Through the window, she could see grandma clasp her hands together and say “el, I wished I’m a die.  Bessie’s got loose and is traipsing around all over the place.”

Bobby Jo giggled as she quickly hid when grandma came outside.  It didn’t take long for grandma to know what Bobby Jo had done but she didn’t get mad.  She just laughed and said “you little scamp, you.  Go put that bell back on Bessie.”

Sometimes when grandma was cooking and got the milk out, Bobby Jo would wait until she turned around and put the milk back in the icebox.  Grandma would say “I could have sworn I got that milk out.”  After she used it, she would put it back in the icebox and Bobby Joe would take it back out and sit it back on the table.  This would go on and on until grandma finally caught on.

Grandma had a good sense of humor and she enjoyed Bobby Jo’s playfulness.

A family bought the old Simpson farm just down the road. Bobby Jo heard they had a little girl, so she wandered down the hill toward the house.  Sure enough, she saw a little girl.  Bobby Jo and never been shy so she just walked up and introduced herself.

The little girls’ name was Carla Jean.  After Bobby Jo met her parents, she asked if Carla Jean could come up the hill to her house.  Carla Jeans’ parents said “sure, as long as you’re back before dark.”

Bobby Jo and Carla Jean skipped, hand in hand, up the hill.  When they got to the house, Bobby Jo took Carla Jean in to meet her grandma.  Grandma was pleased to meet her and promised a homemade blueberry pie, after they got settled in a little more.

Grandma was busy washing clothes.  She still used a washboard and a big tin bucket.  She said “now, you girls go on out and play.  I have to finish washing up these clothes and get dinner started before grandpa gets home.”

Bobby Jo looked at Carla Jean, rolled her eyes and said “okay, grandma.”  As they were walking out, grandma said “now, stay away from that old shed.  You don’t want grandpa to have to get after you.”

Bobby Jo again looked at Carla Jean and said “don’t pay her no never-mind.  My mama says she’s a little touched in the head.”

Carla Jean said “what do you mean?”  Bobby Jo said “well, before I was born, grandpa went fishin’ down to the lake and he ain’t never come back.”  Carla Jean asked what happened.

Bobby Jo said “all I know is, my mama said they ain’t never found a hide nor a hair.  Sometimes late at night, I hear grandma talking to him, just like he was in the room.”  Carla Jean said “are you scared?”  Bobby Jo said “nah.  She talks to him all the time.”

Bobby Jo asked Carla Jean if she wanted to go look at the old shed.  Carla Jean said “but your grandma told us not to go in there.”  Bobby Jo said “I know, but I go in there all the time…and you know what?  Sometimes, the floors are wet and it smells like fish.  Come on…let’s go in.”  Carla Jean said she didn’t want to.  “Come on, fraidy cat,” Bobby Jo teased but Carla Jean wouldn’t go in.

It wasn’t going to be long before dark, so Bobby Jo and Carla Jean started heading back to the house.  Grandma came out and said “grandpa must be running late.  He should have been back by now.”  Carla Jean looked at Bobby Jo and Bobby Jo said “remember, don’t pay her no mind.”

Right after grandma went back into the house, Bobby Jo and Carla Jean saw a dark figure coming toward them.  He was carrying fishin’ poles and a bucket.  Bobby Jo said “it can’t be!  It can’t be!”

Carla Jean turned as white as a sheet and started running down the hill as fast as her little legs would carry her.

Bobby Jo was giggling as watched her.  Then she ran up and said “hey, grandpa.  Did you catch anything?”

 

The End.

 

Blogger Recognition Award

A big thank you to Stephanie at makingtimeforme for the nomination.  Stephanie is a wonderful blogger who is supportive and encouraging.  She’s quick to promote anothers’ work and delves into the lives of those we may tend to discount…like teenagers.  She posts about her own life, divorce, remarriage and her struggles with being a step-mom. She is gracious with those of us who don’t understand how to do something.  She is always more than willing to help. If  you don’t already follow her, give her a read.  You’ll be glad you did.

The Rules:

1.  Thank the blogger who nominated you.

2.  Write a post and display the award.

3.  Give a brief story on how your blog started.

4.  Give a piece of advice to new bloggers.

5.  Select up to 15 other bloggers you want to give the award to.

6.  Comment on each blog and let them know you nominated them.

How My Blog Started:

I am not sure exactly how my blog started.  The only thing I knew about blogs and WordPress came from my dear friend, who died from a brain tumor and blogged about his fight to survive….and a brave fight it was.  I revisit his blog from time to time, although it is painful.  I still remember this wonderful, intelligent, strong, strapping man who was a true friend.  He would have been the one I turned to for advice on “how to blog”, had he lived.

I think my youngest daughter, probably in an attempt to help ease my grief, suggested that “we” write a blog.  So…I decided to write about the journey of my life….the struggles, the disappointments, the losses and what seems to be a losing battle of recovery.

Advice To New Bloggers:

The one thing I wish I had been more knowledgeable about was how to “tag.”  If you are a new blogger and are as computer illiterate as I was (am), it helps.  As far as content, there are so many bloggers out there with entirely different kinds of posts and they are all wonderful reads.  I would say to write what you want to write.

Follow other bloggers and be supportive.  Comment on their work.  Let them know you read their posts and appreciate them.  You will make some wonderful friends here.  They will become your family…your “band of bloggies.”

Don’t get discouraged if you only have a few followers in the beginning.  Keep writing, if only for yourself.  It can be cathartic.  It can be healing.  It can be the reason you get off of your sofa.

My Nominees:

1.  Tosha Michelle

2.  myworldshattered

3.  A@moylomenterprises

4.  euphoriciraqisinglemom

5.  chloe88blog

6.  Blue Sky

7.  creativerational

8.  shavingshards

9.  RobertGoldstein

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entertainer Blogger Award

A big thank you to Stephanie at makingtimeforme for the nomination.  She is (to use the words of another blogger describing her) a prolific blogger.  She writes about all sorts of things, is tremendously supportive and unselfishly promotes other bloggers’ work.  Her “spotlights” and “weekly updates” are well worth viewing.

The Rules:

• Write a post with the award picture shown above.

•  Nominate up to 12 other bloggers who are funny, inspiring, and most of all ENTERTAINING!

•  Thank the person who nominated you by tagging their blog.

•  Answer the five questions listed below.

The five questions are:

1.  Why did you start a blog in the first place?
I think I remember my youngest daughter saying “let’s do a blog.”  I had no idea what I was doing but I thought I’d give it a shot.

2.  What is your favorite book?
I always struggle with this question because I don’t read books.  The only book I ever read was Ambulance Girl so I guess it would be my favorite.

3.  What do you dislike the most?
I dislike injustice, prejudice, infidelity, dishonor, immorality, liars and narrow-mindedness.

4.  What is your favorite food item from the mall?
I haven’t been to a mall in more than twenty years but when I used to go, I would always get a Barnies’ coffee (long before Starbucks) and a Cinnabon with an extra cup of icing.

5.  What is your favorite pastime activity?
Probably blogging.

My nominees:

1.  Robert Goldstein
2.  Spearfruit
3.  theword36
4.  shavingshards
5.  creativerational
6.  samlobos
7.  A@moylomenterprises
8.  Tikeetha T

Another Leibster Award

A big thank you to innerramblingsblvd for the nomination!  They are a couple of ghost writers whose work ranges from musical to erotica.  They post lots of videos and the writing is always so meaningful.  They are staunch supporters of their followers and never fail to comment with heartfelt and encouraging responses.  If you don’t already follow them, give them a look.

These are their questions for me:

1.  What was the scariest moment in your life?
I would have to say when I had to meet with a drug dealer in the middle of the woods because the Loser puppet told me to get his computer back and he didn’t care how I did it.  (My son sold it.)

2.  What or who inspires your writing?
My life.

3.  How have you overcome writers’ block?
I just don’t write for a while.

4.  Are you published?  Would you like to be published?
No.  Maybe.

5.  What do you think is your best poem or poetry?
Maybe “A Short Story” but I don’t consider anything I write as being very good.

6.  What is your favorite novel?
I don’t have one.

7.  If you could meet an author, who would you meet?
I’ve met Robert Penn Warren but only because he was one of the Loser puppets’ favorite authors.  Not being a reader, I don’t have an answer.

8.  If you were trapped on an island, what three items would you have?
Water, a compass and a raft.

9.  What is one thing in the world you’d like to change?
Injustice.

10. How long have you been writing?
I’ve been blogging almost a year.

The Rules:

Thank the person who nominated you and post a link to their blog.

Try to include a little promotion for the person who nominated you.

Display the award on your blog post.

Provide 10 random facts about yourself.

Nominate 5-11 bloggers that you feel deserve the award and notify them that they have been nominated.

Ask them to answer ten questions.

Ten Random Facts About Me:

1.  I always wear a gold St. Jude (the patron saint of lost causes) pendant around my neck.

2.  I have no discernible wrinkles on my forehead…a trait I got from my mama.  At eighty, she didn’t
have a single wrinkle on her forehead.

3.  I can raise both of my eyebrows (ala Scarlett O’Hara) alternately.  I used to entertain my
children and they would try and try to do it but none of them have ever been able to.  I have never
met anybody else who could do it either.

4.  When I give up something, I give it up.  I used to drink 3 or 4 pots of coffee every day.  About ten years ago, I decided to stop.  I used to drink 8 or 9 gallons of milk a week.  Three years ago, I decided I was going to stop.  I have never even had a sip since.  I never miss what I give up.  I never have any kind of withdrawal.  It’s another quality that people “admire” and also think makes me “crazy.”  (“Nobody says I’m quitting something and just does it.  That’s crazy.”)

5.  I can tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue.

6.  I know a pressure point that can disable or kill you using only my thumb.  (Learned in EMS and no, I will not tell you.)

7.  I despise cooking, although I used to be a pretty good one.  I find the idea right on up there with sticking forks in my eyes.

8.  If I had a choice of a sunny day or a rainy day, I would pick the latter.  I have always loved rainy days.

9.  I have a younger sister who I have only seen five times in the last 61 years.

10. I once worked for the telephone company as an information operator.  Back then, we literally used a phone book to look up numbers.

My questions are the same questions that were asked of me.

Since so many bloggers are award free, I tend to nominate the few who still accept awards.  Also, the Leibster Award is for bloggers with less than 200 followers.  I have surpassed that number (many thanks to my followers) and some of my nominees have, I’m sure but not all have the number posted.

My nominees are:

1.  survivednarc

2.  angelicakidd

3.  creativerational

4.  socialworkerangela

6.  learningtolivelikewater

7.  myworldshattered

8.  painkills2

9.  samlobos

10.  simplyEttad

 

 

A Short Story – Chapter Seven

Ted finished reading Pattys’ dairy.  If anybody heard him screaming in the middle of the night, they never said a word.

After a seemingly endless night, he decided to once again, seek help from Sister Mary.  When he met with her, the first thing he said was “Sister Mary…I did a horrible….I did a horrible thing.”  Sister Mary took Teds’ hand and asked him if he wanted to tell her.  He said “no but I need to ask for Pattys’ forgiveness.”

Sister Mary said “you must ask for Gods’ forgiveness.”  Ted said “I need to talk to her.  I need to tell her how sorry I am.”  Sister Mary told Ted that would be impossible.  “It’s too late, Teddy.”
He said “if there’s even a thimbleful of hope, I can’t give up.  Please, Sister Mary.  Tell me there’s still hope.”  Sister Mary said “there is no hope, Teddy.  You need to go now.”

As Ted sat with his head in his hands. Sister Mary said “I don’t know what horrible thing you did but we all have our crosses to bear.  Sometimes, our crosses make us stronger but sometimes, they are too heavy.  Ask God to help you carry yours. ”  She handed Ted an envelope and said “this is for you.  Go now.”

Ted walked slowly toward his car, clutching the envelope to his chest.  When he got in, he took out his phone and pulled up his contact list.  There she was.  As his finger hovered over her name, a tear fell and landed on the face of his phone.

He looked at the envelope Sister Mary had given him.  He knew what was in it but he didn’t want to see it.  As he read the contents, the screams from the night before were silent but once again, fighting to get out.  Her whole life had been reduced to but two lines.

Diagnosis:  Complete Psychotic Break
Prognosis for recovery:  None

His finger hovered over her name.  With one swipe, she would be gone forever.  As he looked at it, he knew that there was only one thing to do.

Patty
c/o Broken Wing Asylum
Phoenix, Arizona

Delete.

A Short Story – Chapter Six

Ted wasn’t prepared to read what had been written on those pages.

 Monday, July 10th.

This morning, Dr. Mowry called and told me that I am pregnant.  It was hard for me not to call Ted and tell him but I’m going to wait until tonight when he gets home from work.  It was even harder for me not to shout it from the nearest rooftop!
I am so excited.  I made his favorite dish…pot roast.  I have a romantic dinner planned.  I know he’ll be surprised but I am hoping that he will be happy and not mad.

Tuesday, July 11th.

When Ted got home last night, he brushed by me.  He didn’t even say hello so I didn’t tell him about the baby.  He must have had a really bad day at work yesterday so I decided to tell him this morning.  When I told him, he hit the wall with his open hand and said “are you kidding me?  I told you I didn’t want to have to deal with any fucking kids.”
I knew he was angry but I told him that once my belly started growing, and he could actually listen to the babys’ heartbeat and put his hand on my stomach and feel it move, he would fall in love with it.
He said “I have to go to work.  We’ll talk about this later.”
I know he’ll come around.  He’s gruff but he knows how much I want a baby.

Wednesday, July 12th.

We didn’t talk about the baby last night because Ted got home late and I had already gone to bed.  We didn’t talk about it before he went to work but he called me and told me he was going to come pick me up at noon.  He told me to dress casually.  I thought maybe the shock had worn off and we were going to go to the park and eat fast food while we talked.
He picked me up and when I asked him where we were going he didn’t answer. 
I was putting on my bangle bracelets and he asked why I was wearing all that jewelry.  I told him I always wore my jewelry when we went out.  He said “I told you to dress casually.”
He pulled over to the side of the road and parked.   He turned off the ignition and said “we’re here.”  I got out of the car and waited for him to come over to my side.  When I turned around, it was clear that we weren’t going to have lunch when I saw the sign that said…ABORTION CLINIC.
We walked up and he opened the door like a gentleman.  We walked in and sat down.  He had already made all the arrangements.  When they called my name, he leaned over, patted me on the leg and said “I have to get back to work.  Ask them to call a cab to take you home.”
I remember watching him walk out the door.  I remember being told to take off my clothes.  I remember laying on a cold table with my legs in stirrups.
I came home and went to bed.  Ted came home, late and smelling like beer.  He leaned over me to see if I was awake.  When I opened my eyes, he said “how’d it go?”

It took every ounce of strength Ted had to keep reading.  He slowly ran his fingers across the last page and even though it was still legible, he could tell that it had been stained with tears.

July 13th. 

In the middle of the night, I woke up and realized that I was covered with blood.  I was hemorrhaging.  I went into the bathroom and started running a hot bath.
I woke up Ted and told him something was wrong.  He didn’t even get out of bed.  He just went back to sleep.  The entire side of my mattress was saturated with blood.  I sat in the bathtub for several hours, crying.
The next morning, all Ted said was “I guess we’re going to have to buy a new fucking mattress.”
How could he feel nothing?  Did he wonder if my child screamed when it was being ripped from my body?
I will never forgive him for this.  I hate him.  I hate him.

 

 

A Short Story – Chapter Five

Ted had always treated Patty as if she was his “managing editor” because she took care of all the things he couldn’t be bothered with.  When she left, at first it was unclear if he was distraught over the loss of his “right hand man” or his wife.

He had retreated from the circle for the most part.  He declined invitations and ignored phone calls.  He still went to work but when he came home, he sat on his back porch and drank beer.
Rick and Paul tried to be supportive but Ted didn’t share much with them.  They couldn’t offer a lot in the way of comfort other than just being there if he needed to talk.

When Patty first left, Paul asked Ted if he had any indication.  Ted said “not a clue,” then looked at Paul and said “did you?”  Paul shook his head and said “Lisa told me she had stopped playing cards with them but I didn’t read anything into it.”

Every few days, Ted would ask Lisa and Julie the same questions.  “Have you seen her?  Have you talked to her?”  Their answer was always the same.  “No.”
Ted begged them to let him know if they did.  Lisa quipped “why?”  He said “because I miss her.”

Lisa couldn’t hide her anger when she said “you didn’t pay any attention to her when she was here and now that she’s gone, you suddenly miss her?  Maybe you should have taken better care of her when she was still here.”  She was surprised when she thought what she saw was true anguish in Teds’ face but she had no sympathy for him.

One night Ted called Charlotte.  When she answered the phone, he said “I guess you’ve heard.”  Charlotte said “yes.” He asked her if she had talked to her.  Charlotte said “what makes you think I have talked to her, Ted?”
He said “I don’t know.  I guess maybe I was hoping.  Charlotte, she’s the love of my life.”

Charlotte said “she’s the love of your life?  When did you discover that…after she left?”  He said “I’ve always loved her.”  Charlotte responded with a snide “right.  I know all about your love.”  Ted said “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charlotte angrily said “I know what you did.”  Ted was silent for a few seconds and then stammered when he asked “what do you mean?”  Charlotte said “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!  Do you have any idea what that did to her?  Did you ever talk to her about it?  Did you ever even think about it?
After a long pause, he said “no.”
“No!  Of course you didn’t because all you have ever thought about was yourself” yelled Charlotte.  She said “Ted, it’s three o’clock in the morning here.  I have to go.  Please don’t call me again” and hung up without saying goodbye.

Ted had been raised a Catholic but had long ago abandoned his faith.  Out of desperation, he called Father O’Brien and asked if he could see him.  Father O’Brien said “do you wish to make a confession, my son?”  Ted said “no. I just want to talk.”

He met with Father O’Brien and asked him to pray with him.  He asked him to pray for Patty.
“I need you to pray that she’ll come back to me” said Ted.

Father O’Brien took Teds’ hand and said “it is true that God answers all of our prayers but sometimes, the answer is no.  She is not coming back to you, my son.  You have to let her go and move on.”
Ted couldn’t control his tears when he said “I just can’t Father.  I just can’t.”  Father O’Brien said “you have to.”

A few weeks later, Ted decided to implore Sister Mary to act on his behalf.  He had known her his entire life.  She still called him “Teddy.”  She listened to his pleas but her response was no different from that of Father O’Briens.’
She said “I can see your pain Teddy but you have to let her go.  She’s not coming back to you.  God will help you through this but you have to let her go.”

Ted went back home and found himself sitting on Pattys’ side of the bed.  For some reason, he opened the drawer of her nightstand.  Inside, he saw her diary.  He picked it up and held it for a minute.

In the before time, he would have never invaded her privacy, nor would she have invaded his.

He didn’t think it really mattered now though, so he opened it and began to read.

 

 

A Short Story – Chapter Four

Patty had escaped the prison of her mundane existence.  Her whole being had been defined as nothing more than Teds’ wife.
With Michael, she found her true identity.  With Michael, she would learn to laugh again.  She would find true joy and happiness.
She had been trying to fly with broken wings until Michael mended them.  Now, she was soaring above the sorrow and disappointments of her past.

She was experiencing feelings that she had never felt before.  It was almost as if she had been reborn and she had been reborn with Michael.

The warmth of his body, the gentle touch of his hands and the passion in his kisses, all left her hungry for more.  She felt as though she could get lost in his eyes and if she did, she never wanted to be found.  She wanted to inhale him and fill her lungs with his essence.

She had been married to a mercurial man who had left her starving for attention and screaming for affection.  She had settled for numbness.  Poise and perfection had disguised her loneliness.  Ted had given her everything that money could buy but he had never given her the two things she wanted the most…a child and to be loved.

With Michael, she even started to dream that maybe a child would be in her future.  Women were having children later in life now so maybe it could be a possibility for her.

She could give Michael a son.  A son to carry on his name and ensure the survival of his bloodline.  A son who she would cherish as much as she cherished Michael.

They would talk about things that mattered, not about grocery lists or golf games.  They would plan their future together and it would be about them, not just him.  He wouldn’t tell her what they were going to do.  He would ask her what she wanted to do.

When he put his arm around her in public, it wouldn’t be a pretentious gesture.  It would be real.  When he looked at her, he would really look at her, not around her or over her.

This beautiful man had come into her life like a bolt of lightning, searing her soul and welding it to his.

She thought about the times she had and would in the future, lay next to him in bed, watching him sleep.  She knew how it felt to lay next to a man she couldn’t stand to touch.  Now she was going to be laying next to a man she couldn’t touch enough.
His name was the first word she said when she woke up and was the last word she whispered before she went to sleep.

She wanted to know every inch of his body and she wanted him to know hers.  She wanted to bathe in him and have his smell all over her.

When he put his arms around her, she wouldn’t be afraid nor would she be repulsed.  She would beg him to hold her for just a few more moments.
She would listen to the soft cadence of his heartbeat and know that it now belonged to her.  She would treasure it and protect it, for she knew how it felt to have a broken heart.
Her heart would learn how to sing again and she would want everybody to hear the song.

Their lives would be gloriously full and rich with love.  There would be no looking back.  There would be no regrets.  There would only be them and soon they would become one.